


The Running Tights

by Attasee



Series: Suits and Umberella’s [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Mycroftisaperv, clothesporn, mycroftgoesshopping, running tights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-28 00:31:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20416898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Attasee/pseuds/Attasee
Summary: Running tights are but a mystery to Mr M Holmes





	The Running Tights

**Author's Note:**

> Other running tights are available. I’m just stan Adidas gear.

‘_Push through your squats and leg presses in these long tights. Done in stretchy jacquard fabric, they wrap your body to support every move you make. The compression fit focuses your muscles for extreme acceleration. They're finished with reflective details. Porous fibres help with airflow. Body-wrapping support Alphaskin wraps the body to support dynamic movement and delivers a locked-in feel…Compression fit moulds to the body for a supportive feel. Long length. 74% nylon / 26% elastane jacquard. Adidas branding on bonded elastic waist. Reflective details; Alphaskin for a locked-in feel. Product colour: Black’_

Mycroft eyed the product description without blinking. Jacquard fabric? Alphskin? What on earth? Who know exercise gear could be so technical. It was almost akin to foreign language, the density and the porousness of the fabric, the flexibility all of it the garment sounded sounded rather wonderful, but did it all work he thought gently to himself. Gregory had seemed to think it would do earlier that day.  
“Ooh those are belters!” He had declared while studying a web page, chewing on a croissant and drinking Mycroft’s filter coffee. “Bloody expensive though. £130?! For that price I’d want em to the running for me!”  
Mycroft had only taken a brief glance at the items. “They will certainly fit where they touch,” he had replied with a mutter. At the time Mycroft had hoped his nonchalance about the running tights would masked his true feelings about how much he wanted to see Gregory in such a get up. Because heavens above if any man had been made for running tights it was Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade. The thought of him sliding into a pair had distracted Mycroft a number of times already that morning. Mycroft hadn’t realised a man’s thighs and buttocks could be so...so... touchable. It was almost embarrassing how much he needed to rub and paw at them. Apparently it seemed Gregory need only to be standing inches away from him and Mycroft’s hands would develop a mind of their own. It was an intoxicating feeling, and one that he was quite unfamiliar with.  
He had no doubt it was the reason why he now found his laptop mouse poised over the ‘add to shopping basket’ function and his credit card details on stand by.  
Mycroft shook his head at himself. “You can’t possibly buy them for him, it is too soon. Two months of fabulous sex does not warrant purchasing an £130 plus post and packaging for pair of running tights for someone,” he reasoned out loud.  
The sex had been good though. And Gregory had spent most of his nights at Mycroft’s flat since that fateful first evening.  
So maybe...  
No.  
“Absolutely not.”  
Gregory did not need running tights and if he did, he could buy them himself. That was his final word on the matter.

**24 hours later. New Scotland Yard.**

“Delivery came for you Guv. I put it in your office.”  
“Eh?”  
“A delivery. Jeff signed for it on the front desk. Said he’d let you off this once because it came by courier, apparently it contains important documents and has a Home Office symbol on it.”  
“What? A who now? Whose it for?”  
“Delivery. Your office. You. Now. Anyone would think I was Postman Pat.”  
“Alright Sal. Calm down.”  
The box was sat on Greg’s desk and just as Sally had described with the familiar HO stamp and the words ‘important documents’ emblazoned across the top it.  
“Bloody hell,” he whispered to himself. It took a moment for him to cut through the sealed bag and slip the gift box out of it. He huffed with delight when he saw a familiar logo come into view. “Oh you bastard,” he gasped with a smile.  
The running tights.  
He lifted the lid to find tissue paper with a hand written card tucked inside.  
‘I took a guess at the size. I hope they fit. Perhaps later a fashion show is in order? My place? 8pm?  
Yours  
M’

**7 hours later**

“Suitable?”  
“Absolutely.”  
“Not to tight?”  
“G-good Lord no.”  
“Are they ok when I bend over?”  
“Gregory please..”  
“Ha! I thought as much you little perv.”  
“I-...”  
“You’re face is a picture darlin’ all red, flustered and worked up’.”  
“My face? I have absolutely no-.”  
“Yeah you do. And guess what? It’s probably about time I told you, it seems the right time stood here half naked, I fucking love you and your face Mycroft, is that okay?.”  
Good lord.  
“That’s...that’s absolutely wonderful.”


End file.
